Fashion Disaster
Chapter 3
Day 3 AKA 'The Happy Sunflower'
"You never told me you own Take a Bow."
Lily turns around at the sound of his voice, lips already pulled back into a smile even though James is sure he hasn't done anything to deserve the heart-stopping view yet.
"You're right. I didn't."
"Which begs the question—why not?"
"Actually, it doesn't," Lily says, narrowing her eyes playfully, "It begs the question how you found out. Are you and Petunia secretly meeting for tea parties behind my back?"
James sighs, head hanging. "I wish you didn't have to find out like this."
"James!" Lily clutches a hand to her chest. "Are there…chocolate tarts at these parties?"
"Do you take me for an absolute savage, Evans? Of course, there are chocolate tarts."
"I'm offended you'd give them to Petunia when you know how much I adore tarts."
"You draw the line at tarts and not at the secret meetings?"
"Everyone has faults, Potter, what you gonna do about it? Mine happens to be strange boundaries and my sister's is looking down on everyone else."
"Won't deny that. I'm certain she fantasizes about my untimely demise in her free time," James agrees, "I think she actually considered flipping the sign to 'closed' when she saw us coming down the street."
Her mouth hangs open in incredulity, "she did not."
"I swear on my hair she did—and you must know this about me, Lily—I love my hair."
"Really, James? I wouldn't have guessed."
"Well, you know now. So, if there were ever a situation where an imposter tried to convince you they were me, you could always ask them what's my favorite thing about myself."
"Why would someone try to pretend they were you?"
"I'm dead popular. People are jealous."
"And amongst the very many personal questions I could potentially ask, that's what you'd suggest?"
"The trick is to confuse them with simplicity. The answer is so obvious, they'd never go for it."
James watches, heart-swelling like a balloon, as she throws her head back and laughs. "You're mad, Potter. Absolutely off your rockers."
"That's harsh," he says, grinning openly, "Is this how you treat your very precious customer?"
"I'm sorry, but have you seen you today? I can't take you seriously when you're dressed like that."
"I'm hurt," he says, not entirely successful in controlling his amused snort. Lily laughs again. "I'm serious! You're crushing my heart. I will only take apology in the form of the truth."
"The truth?"
"About your ownership of the store, of course. Don't think you've successfully evaded the question, Evans."
Lily shrugs, the grin on her face softening a bit as she trails her fingers across a line of clothes. James is tempted to reach out and grab her hand, but controls himself in time. "It's not like I meant not to tell you. Just didn't come up."
"Oh, I don't care why you didn't tell me," he says. Lily looks up, a question in her eyes. "I just want to know the story behind it."
"The story?"
"There has to be a story."
"There isn't, really," Lily shrugs again, "my parents passed away two years ago and I started this thing because we had to pay our bills. Petunia very grudgingly agreed to it because she has zero business sense and couldn't draw up a plan if you paid her."
James wants to shoot himself. He wants to die.
"Oh. Shit, Lily, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—dredge up any bad memories for you or anything." He smiles ruefully, hand scratching at his head, "I'm sure your parents were lovely people."
"They were," Lily agrees with a soft smile, entirely too kind, "and it's alright, you don't have to be sorry. I still miss them every day but it doesn't hurt as much anymore. Besides, I'm pretty happy with where I am now, so I don't mind talking about it either."
"Well, for what it's worth, I'm pretty happy with where you are, too."
"Oh?" She raises an eyebrow at him, and James suddenly finds his fingers trailing over the clothes as well, eyes unable to look away from her face—though that's a problem he's had since he first stepped into the store.
"Yeah. I mean, if you hadn't, I wouldn't have met you, now, would I?"
"Ah," Lily says, and James delights in the flush that steals over her face, "You can't be too sure, Potter. We might've run into each other somewhere else."
"How sickeningly cute. Almost like fate," Mary appears suddenly from behind James, making him jump out of his skin. He hadn't realized how close he and Lily had gotten, how their fingertips were almost touching now. Lily seemingly makes the same observation, taking a few steps back and clearing her throat.
"Hi, Mary," James greets, and can anyone really blame him if his voice sounds just the slightest bit disappointed? "Good to see you again."
"Likewise, Potter. Very glad to see you. Though nowhere near as glad as Lily, of course."
"Mary."
"And I have to say, you pull off that sweater quite smashingly."
"Why, thank you. I really do think giant sunflower prints are becoming on me."
Despite the sarcastic tone, James almost feels confident in his stupid attire; the ugly sweater accompanied by red leather pants and cowboy boots. Luckily for him, Sirius hadn't been able to dig up any more disastrous pieces from Halloween again, which might've had a lot to do with Lily's promise yesterday to James that she'd clear up all the old stock and keep it well away from Sirius's clutches.
Turns out she had done her job well. Not that James had doubted her for a second.
"Not my best attempt, I'll agree," Sirius sighs, joining them with a large pile of clothes in his hands. "I'll have to do better."
James lets out a strangled noise, hazel eyes wide behind his glasses. "What are those clothes? I thought we were done for today!"
"These are for me, you git," Sirius huffs in annoyance, as if James's legitimate fear is something like a bothersome housefly to him. "The world doesn't revolve around you."
"I don't want to hear that from you."
"What do you think, Evans?" Sirius turns to Lily, pointedly ignoring him, "Will they look good on me?"
"I'm sure you know the answer to that already," Lily humors him. "Though dark colors are definitely the right choice."
"Of course, they are," Sirius grins.
"Try not to float away to the ceiling, Black," Mary says, her hips brushing against Sirius's brazenly as she sashays away, "New customer. Gotta go."
"Come along, Prongs. I've to try these on."
"You're a right bastard," James grumbles under his breath as he follows Sirius to the back, "You're doing this just to throw it in my face."
"Throw what in your face?" Sirius asks, the picture of innocence. He lasts about half a second before a devious smirk cracks his mask. "Clothes? Now, don't be selfish, you've just bought a wonderful bunch yourself."
"Padfoot, if you're not done in five minutes, I'm leaving."
"I'll tell Evans you were wanking off to the thought of her last night."
"What the fuck?!" He shrieks, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline, "what's wrong with you?! That's not even true!"
"Sounds believable enough to me."
"I really, truly hate you."
"I suggest you look up some other phrases to express yourself, mate. It's getting terribly boring hearing the same thing," Sirius winks before disappearing inside the changing room.
James is then somehow coerced into entertaining the giant child by clicking pictures of Sirius every time he steps out of the room in his devious, evil, preciously normal clothes and sending them on the family WhatsApp group so that his mother can 'ooh' and 'aah' until Sirius's ego is satiated.
The bastard looks smashing, of course, but James would rather die than admit as much.
And so, when Sirius reappears for the fourth time, he gasps, "oh my god, are you—Edward Cullen? Don't step out into the sunlight; Bella is alive still!"
Naturally, Sirius promises revenge with such a withering glare that James is instantly regretful.
He's right to fear for his life when—not a second after Sirius has re-entered the trial room—his phone pings and there it is: a wonderfully mortifying picture of James in The Sweatshirt of Death from yesterday. It's all made worse by the fact that it's from that one moment when a mean child had stopped on the road to bully James by pointing and laughing at him until his alarmed mother had pulled the monster away.
James wishes someone had pulled Sirius away, too.
His phone buzzes again, and it's his mother. 'I want to frame this,' she says, and he's putting down his foot.
"Sirius, get out! The bet is off! You broke a rule."
"I don't know what you mean."
James bangs on the door loud enough for Lily to pop by, her head peeking around the corner. "Um, you know you're my favorite customer, but I don't appreciate you breaking down my store, James."
Something warm and hopeless and absolutely pathetic settles inside him, fist stilling over the door. "I'm your favorite?"
"Customer."
"I'll take that."
Lily rolls her eyes, but she's grinning—almost laughing—and she looks so pretty. He almost forgets what he'd been fuming about, but thankfully, Sirius walks out before the anger has truly dissipated because he can't let the little shit get away this time.
"You took my picture without my permission. Ergo, bet is off."
"Ergo nothing. You started the whole thing by making fun of me."
James doesn't think his eyes can get any wider. "You make fun of me every day! Like, literally every day, Sirius. Constantly. Are you—I can't—are you for real?!"
"Yeah well, I'm allowed to."
"That's the stupidest argument I've heard."
"Your face is stupid."
"Jesus, how old are you?"
"I'm seeing a need for intervention here," Lily quips sagely, stepping between them with a solemn expression. She places her palms on James's and Sirius's chests, looking for all the world as if she's breaking up a rowdy fight between hooligans, when in fact neither of them has moved to so much as lift a finger on the other.
"What's this?" Sirius throws her a look. "You're a strange bird, Evans."
James wants to agree, but he's certain his brain has cracked because all he hears inside his head is, she's touching me she's touching me SHE'S TOUCHING ME.
"I'm sure you'll excuse my eccentricity after everything I've witnessed, Black," she rolls her eyes. James wants to marry her. "So, what's this about a broken rule?"
"James made fun of me when this whole bet is clearly supposed to be a joke on him."
Even hearing it the second time doesn't feel any less ridiculous.
Lily seems to think so too because she makes a valiant effort to control her smile. "Right. A gross trespass on his part." She turns to him then, raising an eyebrow. She's so cool and does anyone care that he wants to marry her? "And what's your story?"
"Well, I did call him Edward Cullen—"
The snort escapes her even as her teeth press down on perfect lips to hold it in. "Sorry. Fair, but sorry."
"Hey!"
"Anyway, so then he went ahead and sent a picture of me on the family group chat."
She drops her hands from their chests now—probably realizing that they aren't going to jump at each other's throats, snapping and foaming at the mouth like rabid dogs—and James almost sighs in disappointment. "And…that's not allowed?"
"Of course not!"
"Says he," glares Sirius.
"Says the contract!"
Lily does a double-take. "Pardon? There's a—a contract to this madness?"
James immediately hates that they've come to this juncture. "Er, well, you know—"
"No, no, please," Sirius leans against the threshold, smirking openly, "feel free to explain all the rules you wrote down and how you signed it with your blood."
"For fuck's sake—"
"Blood?!"
"There was no blood!" James yells, and wants to cry, wants the earth to crack open and swallow him whole, wants anything that would make Lily forget the last five seconds or so. "It was just a plain old list of things that were not allowed and taking pictures in any chosen outfit was one of them and can we please stop talking about this now?"
"You're the one who brought it up," Sirius grins, completely joyful again.
"I mean, he has a point," Lily shrugs.
James hates his life. He can't believe this has backfired on him so spectacularly—then again, he kind of can. "This is so unfair."
"I'll let the issue slide if you do," Sirius offers, sounding as if he's making a great sacrifice.
"I'm the one who has anything to let slide, not you."
"This is why you don't get laid, Prongs. Learn to let things go."
He can't believe he's hearing this from Sirius, the person who can hold grudges like no one's business and could probably get an award for it if such a thing existed. But more importantly, he can't believe the bastard has gone and said that James doesn't get laid in front of Lily—
Probably sensing the impending eruption of James's head, Lily turns to him fully, hand back on the fuzzy lint of his happy—horrid—sweater, toes stretching the treacherous distance it takes for her to put her lips next to his luckier ear. He feels the heat from her body so close to his, feels his own fingers flexing as they struggle to not touch her, to not pull her waist firmly against his person because that's—well, that's kind of inappropriate.
And his mother wouldn't condone such behavior without proper consent from the other party.
"For entirely selfish reasons, I'm going to side with Sirius." Her breath, deliciously warm against his ear, shoots blood right to his face. And then she's stepping away again, hand trailing back to her side. James is confused, thoroughly so, but the glint in her eyes and the fire on his face leave little room for clearer conversation.
Dear God, is he about to get a boner in the middle of a clothing store?
"What did she say?" Sirius is suspicious.
James really doesn't know either.
"Just that I agree with you," she supplies serenely and is now walking away as if it's no big deal. "Can't lose my precious customers over a little scuffle, could I? Totally in favor of continuing the bet. Sorry, Potter."
But she doesn't understand; it's actually James who is sorry because she's given him too much credit and left it on his stuttering mind to understand the meaning behind her words when he's clearly an incapable loon.
"Wow, she has the hots for you."
James thinks he might die of whiplash today. "What?!" he chokes, eyes practically bulging.
"Can't lose my precious customers, could I? Sorry, Potter!" Sirius imitates, voice screeching high, and James decides it's not something he ever wants to witness again, "she was totally eye-fucking you! How did you miss that?"
The idea is so incomprehensible to him that Lily—gorgeous, funny, eleventy billion leagues ahead of him Lily—could possibly be eye-fucking him that it makes James laugh.
"Yeah, right. Stop taking the piss."
Sirius levels him with a flat stare. "And this is why I prefer tormenting you."
"No, but did you really mean it?" James needles for the hundredth time as they make their way to the counter after a few minutes. He feels incredibly agitated, restless, and jumpy like he's never been. "Only, I can never tell with you. D'you really think she was flirting with me?"
"No," Sirius glares, dropping his clothes onto the counter. "I took it a step further than flirting. Now, will you shut the hell up?"
How could he?
Excitement courses through him at the possibility that even a fraction of his affections might be a mutual phenomenon and not a fantasy he's doomed to cook inside his head for all of eternity. His eyes are instantly scanning the store, searching for red hair as he rocks back and forth on his heels, neck craning left and right.
"Stop that," Sirius barks, "you're annoying me."
"Truthfully, I couldn't give less shit."
"Well then go snog your bird or whatever. We gotta leave soon."
"What?" James spares him a glance, which he thinks is well-earned since Sirius has mentioned the idea of a snog between him and Lily. "Why do we have to leave?"
"Moony and Wormtail are visiting today, remember?" Grey eyes narrow at him. "Keep up, Potter. It's like you're a scatter-brained oaf."
"Oh, right," James nods, "Got it. I'll be quick."
Someone clears their throat, and he turns back around to find Mary staring at them from behind the register. She has her fingers steepled in front of her in a way that reminds James uncannily of his Biology professor at secondary. A perfectly sculpted eyebrow flies to her forehead. "Splendid job ignoring my presence for so long."
"Er," He runs a hand through his hair. "'Lo again, Mary. Sorry 'bout that. I was just a little distracted."
She hums under her breath, smile pulling at red-painted lips as she scans a shirt. "So I heard. Something in particular bothering you, Potter?"
"Well, you know," James intones lamely, half-wishing he could see Sirius's face because he's certain the cretin is mouthing things to Mary while he's turned away but also half-wishing not to because he's had enough embarrassment for a day. "No."
Mary's smirk immeasurably perturbs him.
Is it because she's found more ammunition to make fun of James?
Is it because Sirius is making randy eyes at her?
Is it because she has lunch packed that she can't wait to get to?
He doesn't know.
"I see," she replies at length after James has successfully driven himself crazy with his own thoughts. Her small hands are surprisingly skilled as she folds the clothes in sweeping motions, clear brown eyes appraising him. "And here I thought you were wondering where Lily was."
James can't help his grin. "Just a bit."
"Damn," Mary shakes her head, passing the bag of clothes to Sirius. James thinks she'll say something more, but her attention is promptly snatched away, and now he's sure she's going to lean right over the counter to snog Sirius.
"Well?" he prompts, "where is she?"
Sirius clucks like a hen in irritation when Mary pulls back slightly. "Keep it in your pants," she tells him, before turning back to James. "She had to leave; got a phone call earlier. Said something or the other about having to meet Petunia urgently for lunch."
"Oh," James exhales a storm, heart clattering inside his chest sadly.
"Holy cow, Potter! Don't look so bloody devastated!" she cackles, "you can meet her tomorrow."
"I know that." Even to his own ears, the tone sounds entirely defensive and weak. "I'm gonna wait outside, Padfoot."
"Alright, be there in a minute," Sirius replies without turning around.
James rolls his eyes for the benefit of a rack of leggings and steps outside. The sun overhead barely registers on his skin thanks to the cold haze of December air. The sweater feels weirdly itchy on his skin because of course, it has to be uncomfortable on top of hideous.
It's as he's pacing a few meters down the street—pulling at the collar of the offending piece of article—that his eyes fall on them.
Her red hair naturally catches his attention first, the hue so bright and merry that it fits right in with the festivities of the season. For a second, James thinks, oh Lily's back from lunch, but it evaporates quickly—both the thought and the sudden delight. Because across the street, standing in front of a cozy little café, her nose and cheeks tinged red with the cold, she's not alone.
And even though he's always had problems with his vision, James knows that certainly isn't Petunia.
For one, the person has limp black hair.
For another, it's a man.
He wants to tell himself to not jump to conclusions—perhaps it's just some acquaintance she's run into while on her lunch with her sister—but he watches as Lily steps closer, a rueful smile on her face, almost like an I've missed you without actually speaking the words, and hugs him.
Hugs him like one wouldn't hug a person they've just accidentally reunited with. There's none of the surprise and all of the fondness.
And if that wasn't enough, she laces her arm through his and they enter the café together without a look back.
Clunk.
The trapdoor inside his chest is thrown open until his heart freefalls, crashing heavily somewhere near his stomach.
James clenches his jaw, twists back around, and walks away.
A/N - Reviews are as good as brownies dribbled with hot chocolate sauce! Find me on Tumblr at maraudersftw xx
